Taking it a stop at a time

The stories of a college student with his camera and TAP card

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#18- “So... that’s it?”

Many journeys start and end and we only know where we started and ended when we look back on our lives. Unless you’re exploring or lost, this typically isn’t the case on Metro. There are stops dotted all along maps in terminals, stations, and vehicles. You get on a bus or train with the intention of arriving at a destination of your choosing. But more often than not, where the journey ends isn’t truly the end.

The rides I remember the most are the ones where I get to see people I care about. I think the proper term here is “friends” but don’t quote me on that.

They’re almost never the rides that something amazing happens to me because suddenly I become the stories I write about. The guy that’s excited to see people he haven’t seen in forever and can’t wait to tell anyone willing to listen. The guy that smiles every time he looks down at his phone. The guy that will gush about how great the friends they’ll see are.

A while back I had the pleasure of spending a day with two of my most beloved friends. I wish I could tell you about the ride there and back and all the fascinating things I’d seen, but I’d be lying if I said I remembered any of them right now. All I remember is the sound of their laughter when I told a particularly bad joke. I remember the look in their eye when they saw something that piqued their interests. I remember the way their voices filled the air. I remember the way they walked along, looking at the city. I remember the observations they’d make and the things they said.

It’s odd for me, having written about strangers here for so long, to suddenly talk about people I know. I’ve always tried to notice as much as I could about people. There’s something about the way people carry themselves that words don’t have to explain. Seeing it in strangers always humanized them further for me. But when I see it in friends, it’s another thing to fall in love with about them. Even if it’s not an action-packed adventure, things as simple as silence tell me about friends. Happy or sad, to see these people I care about being as honest as they are with me is a gift I can never repay. They help me grow and help me make sense of the world.

And when strangers do it with me, I feel so trusted. I feel that our lives become inextricably linked together, if only for a moment. I’m gracious that they allow me to be a part of their lives, even in as an innocuous way as telling me about their day. It feels safe and it feels good. The stories I see are one thing, but the stories I hear have all the details that I don’t have to speculate. I get to see the world through their eyes.

I know who ever reads this may be thinking:

“So... that’s it? Is there really no Metro story here? It’s just you being sappy and rambling?”

Part of you is right. I haven’t written here in so long, so it feels weird to continue where I left off. It’s been at least a couple years since I’ve posted here. I want to share this piece because I’ve grown since my last post. There are still stories to share, but I had to take a second and remember the people that have helped change me and helped me grow. A chapter in my life is coming to an end and another will be beginning, but I want to come back to this with fresh eyes and mind.

I had a sad Metro story about friends and traveling, but let’s just start off with some reflections before digging deep in the drafts in my head for stories. Let’s also see if my writing improves!

Also, forget the format from before. We’re going to just have some fun catching up here. After my exams, though. Hope you’ve all been well. It’s nice to be here again.

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It's good to see you posting again. My psych professor this semester told me an interesting Metro story too.

Really now? What was the story? Also, thank you! I am equally glad to be posting again.

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#17- "I think she's still breathing..."

I've had a lot of trouble falling asleep the past few days. It's very strange; so many things have been crossing my mind. Things from my past (of course) and things that the future holds have been keeping me awake longer than they should lately.

I'll blame the heat for the restlessness, but it's still been a little unnerving.

I hope you all understand that while this is a blog about my Metro experiences, it's also where I'd prefer to be more personal than in my actual personal blog (funny how that works).

Anyway, one of the things that has been going through my mind is things that have happened on Metro, things that I haven't gotten around to writing about on here. I talk a little bit about the fears I have in this post from a ways back.

But on the 2nd Purple Line train, I saw that people were coming out much slower than from all the other cars (is that what I call the section of the train?). I was already close to the last car, so I was able to hear people talking.

From only the little I was hearing, someone was acting strange on the car, but I didn't know what they meant by "strange." Sure enough, one of the women came out of the car and went over to one of the guys who works down on the platform and went over to express concern, pointing in the direction of the very back of the car.

There in the back was a homeless woman, hunched over on the floor with her belongings relatively close to her. She wasn't moving very much.

Keep in mind I didn't enter this situation; I watched from afar while waiting for my train to come.

So the guy who the woman talked to went over to the homeless woman. I walked a little to the side to better see what was happening. I could hear him telling her to get up and that the train was already empty. She didn't budge.

The man proceeded to tap her on the shoulder, which she replied with falling over with a thud. But it wasn't a dramatic thud. Something was wrong with her.

The man got startled and walked outside and called one of his coworkers and he proceed to do the same thing and she wouldn't respond. They both walked outside and security greeted them and proceeded to stand outside the doors of the last car.

Funny how life works, because a nurse happened to be sitting near all this and asked if she could check on the woman. The officers let her through, the woman with her bottle of water and her folder full of papers. She sat next to the woman and proceeded to check if she was okay.

i didn't listen in too much, but I distinctly remember her saying:

"I think she's still breathing, but she needs medical attention I can't provide."

A few minutes later, as my Red Line train arrived, the medical crew arrived as well.

I don't really know what happened to that woman, hunched on the floor. I only remember the medical crew walking into the car as we left the station.

And that's one of the thoughts that's been in my mind. These... things, I guess. Being fortunate enough to be alive right now. And thinking about things I've seen not only on the streets, but even just on the Metro. How we talk a big game about how we want to be great people, but then we just kind of just stare or walk away from things that are bad.

That's a generalization, of course. Not every one does that. But I think we can all say at one point or another we've seen something happen that we do nothing about. I know I have and I've done stuff to change that. I've had my moments of being a good human being. But I know I've had just as many moments where I kept quiet and did nothing.

When you think about that sometimes, it's not hard to understand why I have some trouble falling asleep. College is one thing, but life is a whole different thing to tackle.

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I guess that was a story I should have told a while back. Just never got around to it. I'm not exactly satisfied about how this story turned out, but I hope you got the gist of it. I may post older stories I haven't talked about before since they're new to you all. I'd just like to say that if you see someone in trouble or in a situation that doesn't seem right, take some sort of action. There's lot of ways to do it without going over to punch a bad guy or becoming a doctor. Just thought I'd say that. Have a pleasant day, folks. Smiley face.

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#16- "Hi everybody, and a very pleasant evening to you, wherever you may be..."

It's been a while since I've posted on this blog of mine, early February as I might recall. I apologize for not posting as often as I'd like to. Truth be told, I've been neglecting this blog for a while.

This blog offered me a comfort of telling people about my experiences in a way that seemed tangible to me. But there was a time, as noted by my lack of updates, that it stopped being fun. I realized that starting the blog wasn't an obligation, rather it was something that was just a pleasure to do.

Getting feedback, seeing people enjoy the posts, getting a satisfaction of doing what I love to do... it left me feeling good and I recently realized I want to continue doing it.

The story I have to share related to my little realization that I want to continue to tell stories. Vin Scully recently announced that he is planning to return for his 65th year in the booth for the Los Angeles Dodgers in 2014.

As a die-hard Dodger fan, I am thrilled by the news. I hate to dive into sports conversation on this blog too much, seeing as this is Tumblr and it's not exactly the most interesting things for the folks on here, but I really have to.

Mr. Scully is the link between generations of fans. Many players and figures prominent in the MLB have come and gone and have left their mark on the game of baseball in a very special way. We all talk about who was the greatest and each generation will have a different say as to who that "greatest" is.

But the beautiful thing about Mr. Scully is that he, in my eyes, is truly the greatest at his craft, in all it's glory. There may be someone touted as the next Willie Mays or Mickey Mantle or Walter Johnson, but there will never be another Vin Scully.

When I'm on the bus in the Spring and the Fall semesters of my college classes, there are evenings I get the opportunity to listen to Dodger game broadcasts on my phone. Yes, there may be things going on on the bus that should warrant my attention. but for those first three innings of a broadcast, I, along with millions of others, get to listen to the voice of a man that has seen so much happen in the game.

"Hi everybody, and a very pleasant evening to you, wherever you may be..."

It takes me back to the times when I was a kid back in East L.A., listening to the broadcasts on a transistor radio. "AM 790 KABC, your home for Dodger baseball" the announcer would say. I would even listen to Jaime Jarrin, another fantastic Dodger announcer, broadcast in Spanish after those three innings. But it took me back to those wonderful moments in the middle of the summer, sitting in the driveway just drinking a glass of ice cold lemonade and trying to fix the antenna to get the white noise away.

I think I speak for most, if not all Dodger fans when I say that Mr, Scully was pretty much family. My family, of course, are not baseball, let alone sports, fans. But I became a fan listening to these games.

And then I come back to the bus and look around. The people wearing their Dodger gear. The grandfather with their grandson, explaining the game. "A Whole New Blue" ads plastered around the city. The tattoos that scream Dodger pride.

Mr. Scully influenced many of the fans of yesteryear and of today, and listening to him call the games with such eloquence and poise is a true honor.

He's done it for 64 years and done it well. I think I could post a little more often than once in a blue moon.

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i know this was a fairly long post, but I hope you take the time to read it. I will make the effort to post more often, not that I'm obligated to, but I feel I owe it to you all for following me and owe it to my self to share the stories. I hope you all enjoy this post and I'll be talking to you all later. Smiley face.

[youknowyourefromcaliforniawhen]

http://blistersonfingers.tumblr.com/

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You don't even know haha

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I did it. I finally found one of... THEM.

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#15- "Snapbacks and tattoos, snapbacks and tattoos..."

I think we all know how easy it is to influence the mind of a child. There's always so much talk about how media, society and family life have a direct and meaningful impact on the younger generation, be it good or bad. And I'd like to think it's pretty damn true; kids are just sponges and they suck everything up, financially (look, jokes!) and knowledge.

But being a child, they may hear the words and process them but they don't fully understand what it is that those words are trying to convey. It's like if a foreign person who just learned English is reading an idiom for the 1st time. Of course they can read the words "It's raining cats and dogs" because they're not hard. But is it really raining cats an dogs? Why is it raining cats and dogs? Is this a terrible weather phenomenon? maybe that's not a very good example, but I think you know what I'm trying to say.

So that's all that should've been said about this. It really should have. It should've been a peaceful silent ride. But it wasn't.

The littlest kid, who we're gonna call "Driicky" (GET IT?), starts talking. And this kid can't be more than 6, 7 years old.

Driicky: "Momma, I'm fucking hungry. Gimme some shit to eat NOW."

My first reaction was the insane urge to laugh, but was almost immediately followed by a level of disgust I don't usually get-- unless it's kids being disrespectful little shits. Sorry, but not sorry at all.

So the only thing that would've given me any pleasure would be for the mom to smack that kids mouth and tell him that is not how he should address his mother. Instead...

Mom: "Don't talk like that, sweetie pie. Here's an orange."

BITCH WHAT.

Driicky: "I don't WANT no fucking orange! I want what that faggot is eating!"

The "faggot" that was his older brother, eating an orange.

I shit you not, the mother snatched the orange from the older boy and scolded him for eating what his little brother wanted.

UHM. UHM. UHMMMMM.

So Driicky is now happily eating his orange, the mother is still scolding the older brother, and I'm sitting here looking real pissed off. And then dang ass Driicky keeps talking.

Driicky: "Do you get tired of being such a faggot?"

Then the older brother (we're gonna call him "Drake" to keep things from getting mixed up) started telling him to stop being being mean.

Drake: "You don't even know what 'faggot' mean!"

Driicky: "It's when another guy gets freaky with other dudes, I think. All I know is that you's one of 'em!"

He then proceeded to throw the rest of the orange AND YOGURT HE WAS GIVEN LATER under the chair and it made a mess. And the mom got mad at Drake for letting him do it.

All the while, this kid was singing this stupid song and at the moment all I remember is this part

Driicky: "Snapbacks and tattoos, snapbacks and tattoos..."

And he sang other words but he kept messing up, I guess? He insulted people on the bus without thinking and Drake tried to tell him to shut up but his mom kept scolding him.

Now... HERE is my biggest problem. Of course Driicky is not my child; in fact, I have no children, nor experience raising one all on my own and I'm not one to tell someone how they should raise their own child. However, I DO have a problem with  what she was doing (and maybe there are studies on this?).

Drake, the older boy who wasn't trying to cause any trouble whatsoever, was being scolded and punished by the mother while her other child was running his mouth off at others and he was rewarded.

Kids see this. Kids react to this. When Driicky grows up, he's going to see the world that way; act like a rapper he hears on the radio and sees on television and people will respect you or be too weak to argue back with you. Drake will see the world in a different light. He'll see that even when he's trying to be good, it doesn't help him and he's still punished for it. He'll start thinking that maybe if he acts like his brother, he'll get the respect he wants.

Or course, they're just little kids, this isn't the process that goes through their minds. They don't think THAT far down the line or over analyze like that. But reading that, don't you know people like that? Act like jerks, get what they want, act nice, get treated like shit?

They got off at the same stop I did and I just looked at that kid. Looked at him and wonder what he'll get himself into years down the road.

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Now of course, I'M looking into this far more than I should; it was just a chance meeting on the bus. There's a ton of things that bothered me about that bus ride, the mother and Driicky. There's too much to write and I can't bear to go into THAT much detail on a blog post. Do you guys agree with me when I say that this was messed up? I'm not writing stories just about crazy people, but about observations I've made and the experiences I've been through. I hope you find something in this post and if you all have anything to say about it, you could always message me or just anything. Until tomorrow! Smiley face.

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The beard that won the Cup.

A face to a story for once! (Sorry if "Wayne" ever sees this!)

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#14- "I even named my dog Gretzky!"

I'll be honest, this story is not all that recent. In fact, it's been about 6 months since it's happened.

That being said, I promised a story a day til my new semester gets started so I figured that I might as well start off with stories I REALLY didn't have time for. This happened in June, right at the peak of my finals stress. I had pulled a 40 hour day working on finals and a video that was SUPPOSED TO BE GROUP WORK, but I got through it and now I'll get on with the story.

(Also, with the lack of hockey in our lives thanks to that DAMN lockout, I thought this would be a nice flash back for you Kings fans!)

I did what any level headed college kid would do: I went to the liquor store, bought 4 energy drinks to keep me up all night and instead headed over to 7th and Metro and went to the Staples Center.

To the regular human ear, "June 11, 2012" sounds like any other day. To a Los Angeles Kings fan, that sounds like the best day of your life. And I fall into neither category (Boston Bruins 4 lyf <3), but as an L.A. native, I felt it was my duty to go down there and show my support.

Of course, not having a ticket meant I couldn't get into Staples Center, but I was still there. This was the 1st time I had ever SEEN Staples Center (again, Boston Celtics fan here, too, so Lakers aren't my thing) in person, let alone be around a stadium with a championship on the line.

Alright, alright, fast forward. Kings win in a blow out, I was in the middle of a crowd of jumping people, everything was crazy and I'll never forget the moment I was there. Then it was time to head home. so I get on Red Line and I'm sitting down next to other fans that just got back from the game with me.

One guy stood out in particular to me. For the life of me, I can't remember his name at all, but I took a picture of him. We'll call him Wayne (hockey jokes, hockey jokes).

So here's Wayne, standing and talking to anyone that's willing to listen. And he's talking to all of us about how the season went on and how he's been following the team ever since he could remember. I had to ask him though...

Me: "Hey, what's with the beard though?"

Wayne: "This is my playoff beard. I wasn't going to shave until they won the Cup. I can't wait to go home to shave this shit off."

Then we all laughed, as we should.

Anyway, Wayne told us about what he would be doing when he got home, which I think every man should do when his team wins a championship:

Wayne: "I can't go off with the rest of the day with out celebrating with my dog. He's been around forever waiting with me, too. When I get home, gonna cook up some steaks, pour him a beer, and we both eat like champs tonight. I mean, cmon, I even named my dog Gretzky! He deserves it as much as I do"

He also told us about how he skipped work today to go to the game. A surprising number of people did that. That was cool.

But I thought the biggest thing that night on the way home was after he got off and a couple of other Kings fans got on board. An old man was standing across the rail car and a couple of kings fans were cheering and what not and one of them caught a glimpse of the older gentleman.

He walked over to the older man and embraced him in the manliest man hug there ever was. The younger man said only 7 words.

"We did it. We finally did it."

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Okay, a sappy ending. Or not. But it was to me. People complain about how useless sports can be. A sport isn't just a game to some people. It's a way of life to us. Complete strangers can empathize with one another, knowing the heart breaking feeling of losses and the triumph of victory. Even on the bus, strangers can become friends over time (more on that in another story).

Thanks for reading! I'm sorry there's no crazy guy in the story, but it happened on the bus and it was enjoyable. Goes to prove not everything on the bus has to be lunatics. Anyway, until tomorrow, everyone! Smiley face.

P.S. I love Jonathan Quick. What a fucking BEAST in these playoffs.

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Season's Greetings from MetroTalk!

Seeing as this isn't a staff of people and just me, I would like you all to have wonderful winter festivities with those you love! Whether you celebrate Christmas, Hanukkah, or whatever holiday you can celebrate right now, I wish nothing but good things for both my followers and everyone else!

I have MANY things to tell you all and I'm very much looking forward to it! These stories will be part of the "Season 2" of MetroTalk. And yes, "Season 3" of MetroTalk will continue on January 7th because I'LL STILL BE COMMUTING. YAY ME!

But let me be sappy for just a minute. This blog is my child, and you've helped ME give some direction to where I want this blog to go! I wouldn't be writing if I didn't know that some of you did not enjoy them. You're the reason I'm here coming back to update. Some may say "it's only 54 followers" but to me it means much more than that. It means the world to me. I hope you guys enjoy the many stories that will come in the coming days and months.

You all rock. Thank you. Smiley face.

P.S. Keep being awesome!

P.P.S. I know I shouldn't ask this, but tell your friends about this blog! I want it to be shared with many people that can possibly relate to what I'm going through on public transit. Or Just so they can laugh at my misfortunes! Leave stuff in my ask box if you want, too!

Again, you're all wonderful!

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The signs are never wrong.

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do you like to TAP that?

THE BEST THING I WILL EVER GET IN MY ASK BOX EVER.

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#13- "Do you have a pen?"

Have you ever watched "The Hangover"? You know that song that Alan sings?

We're the three best friends that anyone could have...

I'd like to think we all have a '3+ best friends' thing going on, right? The people that you hang out with a lot and have so many funny memories with. When I'm sitting on Metro, I see a lot of those people come on, in their little groups. While everyone on the bus is dreading the ride home, these guys (and girls) are just talking it up and having a great time. There's a whole lot of stories I have of those groups, but one stood out to me because I got to be a part of it.

You know, until the 3 best friends that anyone could have waltzed in.

So I'm gonna be real here: these 3 were a piece of work. They looked like they were licked out of their natural, grunge habitat and told to get to Union Station because their "Vegas or bust" signs were getting them nowhere.

There were two guys and one girl. One of the guys had this really bright green hair in dreadlocks. Word of advice: unless you're a professional vagabond or are covered in gnarly tattoos, there's no reason skinny, white guys should have dreadlocks. He had the tattoos though, so he passed the test.

The girl and one of the guys were talking about a gig they were gonna try performing sometime in the next week and I looked at the other guy. He was knocked OUT. Like, he almost looked dead. But the smell of beer coming from his breath let me know he was still all there.

The dude and chick look at each other and their friend and they start suppressing laughter. Dude walks up to me real quiet-like...

"Do you have a pen?"

Yeah, you know where this is going.

But lucky them...

"Nah... but I have this sharpie that might do the trick."

I swear when I told him that, it blew both their minds. Like he and the girl were just like freaking out. So they were not only buzzed, but probably on a little something something, you feel me?

So I handed them the sharpie and they just went balls out on this guys face. He looked black when they were done with him. While the girl gave the guy a new face, the other guy was explaining to me.

"So we have a rule, where... if you get drunk out of your mind and you fall asleep, then your friends get to draw on your face. And he ALWAYS falls asleep."

As they were finishing up, the guy started stirring.

"Oh shit, he's gonna be punching and kicking! Back off!"

And right when the both backed off, while he was asleep, he started punching and kicking and cursing. Oh, the cursing. I heard words I thought were only myth.

They tried handing me the sharpie back but I told them they could keep it for future use. It was actually really great to see how happy they were to keep a marker. The little things in life, right?

Then they had to wake up the guy cuz they were coming up to their stop. The girl tried whispering to him to wake up. The other guy walked up to him.

"Stand back."

And punched him RIGHT IN THE FACE.

"... ouchhhhh, broooooo..."

He woke up immediately, but... not really. He started stuttering more and asked where he was. We all convinced him he walked from San Diego to a bus stop and then walked all the way to Gold Line. He bought it. They picked him up and took him on their quest to nowhere.

That's the only marker I've ever lost for a good cause.

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Sorry, not a great story, but I thought it'd be a good change of pace from what I'd written before. As you may or may not already know, I'm starting a new semester at college, thus an unofficial "Season 2" of MetroTalk has been given a green light. Post #14 is already planned out to segue into Post #15, Post #15 being the official start to the new installments on this blog.

Thank you oh so much for having followed me this long, you really don't know how much I appreciate it! I know I'm not famous by any means, but it's nice to see people being interested in what I write. I hope I can entertain you guys for the months to come. Smiley face.

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Updating MetroTalk tomorrow

Sorry, I've been pretty occupied with studying my ass off for classes. Hope everyone is doing well and I guess I gave myself the green light for a "Season 2" of MetroTalk.

To all the people who have followed me on her so far, I cannot thank you enough! I know some of you genuinely enjoy reading my stories and it really does make my day when I get feedback from them. You are all wonderful!

Spread the word about MetroTalk if you can, it'd be great! And if you have any stories yourself, the Ask box is there! Ask me about, I'm sure I'm not the only person out there with stories!

Til' tomorrow! Smiley face.

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#12- "I'M SO PERFECT, I'M PERFECT."

So last Thursday, I spent the day with my friend in Alhambra. We watched "The Big Bang Theory" for some time, went to eat at Boiling Crab, talked for a while, then I left on my way home. It was a pretty straight-forward day on Metro. Since I didn't go to school this summer, I haven't had to take Metro as much as I did the 4 months during Spring Semester.

So I'm on the bus for a good 15 minutes when this guy comes onto the bus. The dude looks like Gary Busey and he is sweating up a storm. His blue dress shirt is dark blue from all the sweat and he's got his backpack so he's just drenched.

As fate would have it, he sat right next to me. You'd think I would know better by now and move. But instead I pulled out my phone because I just had to record this guy.

So now that he's across from me, I can tell that not only is he sweaty, but he looks like he got kicked out of a bar because he's covered in dirt and he reeked of beer. Anyway, so he's sitting there in his drunk stupor and decides it's a good idea to call his ex-girlfriend. Because that is always a great idea when you're slurring your words.

This is what he says... we're gonna call him Gary, in honor of his doppelganger:

Gary: "YOU BITCH, YOU DIDN'T LEAVE ME, I LEFT YOU! DO YOU KNOW WHY? BECAUSE I'M TOO PERFECT AND YOU AREN'T! THAT'S RIGHT. GOODBYE FOREVER."

He calls back a minute later.

Gary: "JUST CALLING YOU TO REMIND YOU ABOUT HOW YOU LEFT THE BEST THING THAT WOULD EVER HAPPEN TO YOU EVER. I'LL CALL YOU BACK WHEN I'M NOT PERFECT. WHICH IS NEVER. I'M SO PERFECT, I'M PERFECT."

Way to go, champ.

In his perfect English, he went on to describe Mitt Romney. I shit you not, he shouted this at the top of his lungs for a good minute.

Gary: "MORMON FUCKER! MORMON FUCKER! MORMON FUCKER!"

Bus Driver: "HEY!"

Gary: "... Well, it's true... MITT ROMNEY, MORMON FUCKER!"

Oh, Gary, you're just the darndest thing, do you know that?

However, our friend Gary here really wore out his welcome when he started talking about being like the Joker. And about how everyone sucked and he'd take all of us out on the bus. We know he was drunk, but after the Colorado shootings (my condolences to the families affected by that tragedy), his joke was not welcomed.

One of the guys behind me leaned in an told him straight up what everyone on the bus wanted to tell him. Can I call this guy Batman?

Batman: "Listen, man. If you so much as lay a finger on anyone on this bus, we will all kick your ass. None of this trifling shit. You do something stupid, you're gonna pay"

This is the kinda guy that Metro deserves, not the one is needs. All he needed was a utility belt and he'd be SET!

So what became of poor Gary? He tried to get up to get off the bus and ended up rolling across the bus floor when they pressed the brakes. He was met by a lovely sheriff. Good luck with that, Gary.

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Well hello there, guys! It's been a while, hasn't it? I've neglected my poor blog even though I had plenty of stories. I'm considering updating more now, just before I start school up again. You guys think there should be a Season 2 of MetroTalk? Because it's probably happening! Stay tuned, I'm back guys! Smiley face.

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Spent $487.50 on Metro transit between September '11 and June '12. This picture is full of tickets... each one has a story behind it and maybe I ought to keep telling them.

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#11- "The flowers go a long way, son."

I have a Metro story from earlier today.

"It's a nice day, isn't it?"

It took me a minute to realize that the elderly woman was asking me the question.

"It's awful hot, but wouldn't have it any other way. I like the breeze."

I laugh like I do and the woman and gentleman laugh, too.

"Days like this remind me of when I was just a little girl in Illinois."

I nod in agreement. Course, I never lived in Illinois, but I remember the hot days in East L.A. and think back fondly.

Can I call the woman Jenny? It's a nice name and I always think of Forrest Gump.

Jenny: "Are the flowers for your mother?"

Me: "Yes, ma'am. She likes Tulips."

Jenny: "How sweet of you. Isn't that sweet?"

The older gentleman (let's call him... Dan) just kept looking into the distance. Eating a cookie. Like a sir.

Jenny: "Don't mind my brother. He's a little grumpy today."

Oh, so they aren't married. They're siblings. Oops.

Me: "I like the flowers you got. Geraniums, right?"

Jenny: "Yes, well done! Not many people your age know that."

I've worked with a lot of flowers over the years and things like the names just stick. Pretty good with that. Take note, ladies. So obviously I tell her that. Dan gives me a funny look. I wouldn't blame him. Not many boys can tell you what a geranium is. It's either a rose for the lady or start picking grass and dandelions, fellas.

But anyway.

Me: "What are the flowers for? Were they a gift?"

Jenny: "Actually they weren't. They're for my mother."

Dan: "We're just leaving them at her grave..."

There was this little, awkward silence. All you could hear was the breeze and a girl across the street on her bike.

Then Jenny started talking about her mom for the next 20 minutes. About the years they spent in Illinois. Jenny and Dan were actually born about a year apart, Dan the elder sibling. Their mom was their everything when their dad left the family when they were little. They moved to California when they got older. Jenny and Dan moved out and went to go about their lives and stuff and kept in touch with their mom, even though they'd left an everything. She had a heart attack when she was 52 and passed away.

Jenny: "So since then, we go visit her and leave her flowers and a letter."

Then she looked at me for a long time.

Jenny: "The flowers go a long way, son. Don't forget to tell your mom that you love her, okay?"

Dan just kept on eating cookies, of course. Their bus came by and they left, seemingly as quickly as they came. And I just sat there for another 15 minutes, lost in my thoughts. I'm still thinking, frankly.

-----

I remember this conversation as if it happened seconds ago. I can't shake it off. I didn't go way into detail here, but you can get the gist of it. Whether they're with us or not, give your mom a flower and... I don't know. I can't find the right words to put down.

Dear Mama,

You are appreciated.